


I Sailed Over Worlds and Time To Find To Your Heart

by hereweshallmeetagain



Category: X-Men: Days of Future Past (2014) - Fandom, X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, F/M, King!Erik, M/M, Past Mpreg, a little omegaverse, magical Genosha, with a touch of SF
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-30
Updated: 2015-04-05
Packaged: 2018-03-20 08:18:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,681
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3643239
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hereweshallmeetagain/pseuds/hereweshallmeetagain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>“You will find your omega and you will fall in love. You will wed, you will bond, and you will lose the one you love. But you will have the child you wished for.”</i><br/>For years, King Erik kept the origins of his daughter a secret. His mistakes, his regrets; he never told a soul about what truly happened. He poured all his energy to govern and protect his people, and to love and raise his daughter. She was the only one he had left, after he had to take her away from her other parent, his omega—his beloved. He tried not to think too much of the past he could no longer change, concentrating on creating a better future.<br/>He never thought *that* past would come after him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Maybe I do have ADD. I seem to have many projects at the same time, jumping from projects to projects without ever finishing any. I hope I can finish this one.

* * *

At Genosha Empire, everyone always have a little magic. The strongest line of magic run in the Royal Family’s blood. The Heir to the throne always finds their bonded mate among the common. A couple years after each heir was born, a girl or boy will be born somewhere in the vast Empire. This boy or girl will not show any sign of more than average level of magic. Then after a few years, the young man or woman will meet the Heir, most of times by accident, and their magic level will soar to the level of the Royal Family. They are called ‘omega’. Omegas always find their way to the Heir of the throne. Heirs will wed and form a magical bond with their omega, after which a mark—called the bonding mark—will show up on their body. Their mark would be identical to each other, and cannot be erased, whether by magic or wound or scarring. The child produced by the Heir and their omega will be the next Heir.

There is only one omega for every heir, and every Heir-omega couple only ever produces one child. It has been that way for hundreds of years, as the magic intended to.

Until Sebastian Shaw killed Lady Magda two days before King Erik married her.

A question of succession immediately came up. Opportunists saw it as a chance to take over the power. Royal Family had been without major opposition for many years, being the most powerful group of people in the Empire. Coups had been tried, yes, and assassinations had been attempted. Attempts might cause the death of the King or Queen and their omega, but none ever manage to harm the Heir. A magical protection, people said, that parents set upon their child.

Some people said that the cause was Queen Edie, who bonded with her omega Jacob soon after they met, without marrying him first, created instability in the magic that protected the Royal Family. Some said King Erik must have done the same thing. Some said that the incident proved that King Erik failed to keep the line of magic and unfit to rule, that they should find the next Heir among the nobles, whose magic were more powerful than the commons.

One day, a woman came to the palace to see King Erik. She told him that he needed to find a magician named Apocalypsa. She said that Apocalypsa will find a way. She did not know what way, but she knew that the way will settle his problems.

King Erik ordered his trusted people to search for Apocalypsa. When they finally found her, he came to see her. Apocalypsa told King Erik that she will send him on a journey and he will have to go alone. When he returned, he will have the means to settle his problems. She asked him if he was willing to do it and she wanted him to answer immediately. After considering it for a moment, King Erik agreed to go through said journey, even if his trusted advisors mostly disagreed.

Right before she sent him on the journey, Apocalypsa left King Erik with a message, solely for his ears.

_“You will find your omega and you will fall in love. You will wed, you will bond, and you will lose the one you love. But you will have the child you wished for.”_

There was a very bright light and King Erik was gone.

Within the moment it took to take one breath, King Erik reappeared, and Apocalypsa disappeared. The King looked a little older and his previous attire was gone, replaced by a set of clothes his people had never seen before. Lying in his arms was a sleeping baby with soft green hair.

King Erik smiled, a sad smile, and told his people that the baby’s name was Lorna, and that she was his daughter.

The Empire went into uproar. Those who targeted the seat of power called it a farce. They were soon proven wrong. Princess Lorna’s magic was very similar to that of King Erik, whose first act of magic—which he did when he was a baby—was to rearrange the trellis on the window of his room. When Princess Lorna smiled, people said, the iron in the room sang.

When that still did not convince them, King Erik showed his mark, a burning letter ‘X’ on his back. He gritted in pain as the mark was tested. It did not fade with magic, it cannot be scratched with knives or glass, and it healed right after it was burned, even when the skin around it did not. They asked him what happened with the omega and why was she not there with him. His expression grew shuttered, but he did give them an answer: the omega was gone, taken away from him. The opposition shut up after that.

 

Years went on and Princess Lorna grew to be a beautiful girl. She was powerful, brave, and kind. Her blue eyes, people said, was the most beautiful shade to ever been found in the whole Empire.

King Erik loved Princess Lorna very much. Even if there were maids to look after her, he made sure to visit her every night if he was at the palace, regardless whether Princess Lorna had fallen asleep or not. If she was awake, King Erik would read stories for her of sang her to sleep.

A maid once told a story to her friend of the time she witnessed King Erik sang Princess Lorna to sleep when she was still a baby.

“That night she will not sleep no matter what I did. She cried and cried until the King came and took her. He held her so gently and she stopped screaming after she was in his arms. She was still sniffling and whimpering, and he started singing to her, softly. I left the room to gave them privacy, but I left the door open a bit.”

“The song was unfamiliar, and it sounds sad. Her whimper grew lower until I can no longer hear it. I peeked inside and he was standing in front of the window, singing while rocking her to sleep. When the song ended, I thought she was finally asleep. He put her in her crib and then sat on the chair beside it. I left them there and returned to my room next door. When I returned in the morning he was still there, sleeping in the chair while leaning on the crib.”

As time went by his closest people noticed that despite everything seemed to be fine with the King, he would sometimes, after looking at Princess Lorna, looked towards the window, to the sky, with fierce longing in his eyes. The maids assigned to Princess Lorna said that whenever he came when Lorna was already asleep, he would always kissed her on the forehead and tell her the same words. ‘I’m sorry’ and ‘I love you.’

People assumed that King Erik was lonely. After all, Heirs and omegas usually died within less than a year after their spouse’s death. It had something to do with the balance of magic, people said. There were talks whether he was supposed to be allowed to marry again. When his closest advisors told King Erik about the talks, he said to them, his eyes dark and sad, ‘Thank you but no, thank you. I don’t think I could go through with it again.’ They never brought it up again, but the talks never really stopped, especially between the nobles.

Until, one day, a man showed up out of nowhere and started wreaking havoc in the throne room.

 

* * *

 

 

When Warren flew down from the sky and landed a few steps away, Erik knew there was something wrong, seriously wrong. Warren was pale and there was a scrape on his forehead.

“His Majesty, there was a break-in at the palace.”

 

 

“Where’s Lorna?” was the first thing he asked. She was the one he was concerned about the most. Things could be fixed, rooms could be renovated. Palaces could be rebuilt. People could heal but they couldn’t return from death. He would rather die than let Lorna be hurt, and would certainly rather hurt than letting her die. A sentimental father, he was.

“Princess Lorna is safe. Jean said that Lady Marie and Drake are with her. I think Lady Emma warned them not to come too close to the throne room.” Darwin reported as they hurried towards the throne room. Warren had not come with them; he had to return to get Logan. He was relieved to hear that Lorna was safe. Lorna might be lovely and kind and seemed to reluctant to even hurt a fly, but she was still the Heir to Genosha and her power was nothing to sneer at. She believed in protecting their people, just like he taught her to. She will interfere if she deemed necessary.

Hopefully with him present she would see no need to join fight.

“Casualty?” After Lorna, his people were the next thing that matters.

“Death, none so far. Injuries, many, no one was in danger of dying so far. We managed to get most of the injured out of the room and they are being treated as we speak.”

“The maids said he showed up out of nowhere,” Darwin continued, “Lady Emma sent us who were outside images of him before he knocked her out. None of us recognized him. His clothing was unfamiliar. He didn’t seem to originate from around here.”

“This man threw the throne chair over to Sir Azazel the moment he appeared behind him. Shoved him to the wall and dropped a portion of the ceiling over him. We haven’t managed to get him outside, he was on the other side of the room. The door from the other side is blocked, the side entrances as well. He strangled Lady Emma soon she entered. She turned to jewel form and somehow he still managed to incapacitate her. We got her out of there, but she hasn’t yet regained consciousness.”

“We think he manipulates the air, like Jean. But Jean said that’s not all he can do. Lady Emma told Jean before they entered the room that she cannot read his mind. Jean cannot either.” A guard came to meet them before the entrance to the throne room, carrying a helmet. Shaw’s, Erik noted. The one he used to avoid detection the night he sneak into the palace and killed Magda. Erik looked at it with distaste and Darwin seemed to grasp his irritation. “We deemed it necessary, Sire. If even Lady Emma cannot read his mind, it is possible that he has the same kind of magic as her. If he really can read minds, he will be able to do more harm than he had so far.”

Erik read behind the words. Darwin was concerned for him. The younger man would force the helmet on his head if it meant it would protect him better. He accepted it and put it on. It fitted. His hatred towards his former tutor flared back, but he shoved it away. There were more important things to be dealt with at the moment.

Darwin’s voice was calm, but the tension in his shoulder told Erik the truth. He was worried. “I was going to join the fight, but Scott said someone had to make sure you get here. My magic would have protected me from his attack, but I don’t have anything strong enough to retaliate.”

“He’s still in the throne room now, with Scott, Jean and Janos. Jean said he can fight three of them at once, and she needed all her concentration to keep up with him, so she couldn’t manage constant mind-link. Haven’t heard from her since.”

They entered the throne room, and Erik saw himself the destruction the stranger had caused. The ceiling crumbled in several places. Chandelier pulled off. Side entrances and the door at the back were blocked with rubble. There were cracks on the pillar and the wall. The furniture was destroyed. Chunks of granite were pulled off the floor and either lying around or being used in the ongoing battle.

In the middle of the room, locked in a battle with Janos on one side and Jean on another, was a man in unkempt shoulder-length hair and thick beards clad in ragged brown outer robe. _Coat_ , his mind supplied; they called it coat in *that* world. Even so, it didn’t seem like it was made of material from *that* world. He was holding back Janos’ tornadoes by forming an invisible wall to which the tornadoes crashed into. Janos attacked from different angles but the stranger seemed to able to move the invisible wall at will. Without looking.

At the moment he was half-kneeling on the floor facing Jean, who was throwing object towards him using her magic ( _telekinesis_ , again his mind supplied). The man met Jean’s attack with his own, ripping the tiles and stones off the floor around him with ease and throwing it towards Jean.

Beside the entrance, Scott stirred awake slowly. Blood tricked from a wound on his temple. He groaned and tried to sit, clutching his side. Darwin quickly came to his aid.

“Broken?” Darwin helped Scott sit, leaning towards the wall.

“Hopefully not. Cracked, most likely.” Scott flinched when Darwin touched his side. “Nothing that Hank couldn’t fix, I think.”

“He’s powerful.” Scott nodded at the man in the middle of the room. “His magic is a lot like Jean, as you can see, but there is more. He seem to always know when you were about to attack.” Scott gestured at Janos who was moving around, trying to avoid random chunk of walls and floor that seemed to move around at the stranger’s command. Sometimes the debris got too close and Janos had to throw tornadoes at it. Jean seemed to fare better. She blocked his attacks and sent her own, but she was concentrating very hard, while the stranger didn’t seem to have as much difficulty.

The stranger was playing with them.

Erik stepped forward towards the middle of the room. He briefly noticed Janos slowly retreated from his position. He took over control of the metals around the room. The stranger seemed to notice that, and turned towards him.

Their eyes met, and Erik saw the bluest, most beautiful eyes he’d ever seen. A very familiar pair of eyes. His control faltered, and his heart seized.

His omega was looking back at him.

 

* * *

 

tbc

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I found out by google that it was not advised to make it a habit to rock a baby to sleep. It creates dependency. The child would be used to the treatment and expected it all the time. Well, let’s say that in Genosha where magic is real, when your baby wouldn’t stop crying it was most likely a sign of something really, really bad was happening.  
> Throne room was based on this http://zoriy.deviantart.com/art/Throne-room-286704882 and this http://castlevania.wikia.com/wiki/Throne_Room_%28Judgment%29 Not exactly the same, more like a mixed version of those two, with more furniture for Charles to throw about. Well, there. I spoiled it for you who hadn’t guessed. The stranger was Charles.


	2. Nothing Else Matters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“You will lose everything you have now at the beginning of your journey,” the woman said. “But you will gain what you need to complete it. You will travel long, and far, and hard, but you will find what you look for in the end. When you do, you will lose everything you’ve received at the start of your journey. You will lose even more of yourself to hold on to what you wanted. Your loved one is lost to you, and when you see him again, you will not, nor will ever, look at him the way you did and wished you would always do.”_  
>  Charles went through the journey. He travelled through worlds and times. He had only one purpose: finding his child that his fiancé took away from him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The OST for this chapter is Apocalyptica's rendition of Metallica's Nothing Else Matters. Yes, I had to put it there. I listened to it while writing some parts and throughout the editing. Listen to it here www.youtube.com/watch?v=X-B8k0n_3cs

* * *

Charles Francis Xavier, twenty-eight years old, omega, engaged, a Professor in Genetics Department of Columbia University; also a telepath, but most people knew him as an empath. If he were asked to pick one word to describe his life, Charles would have chosen ‘content’ to describe his life until two years before that day; for the next one year and eight months, he would have called it ‘comfortable’. The word he’d use to describe the next two months, starting with the day his daughter was born to the world, was ‘perfect’.

Charles’ world was perfect, up until the day Erik disappeared with Lorna. Then, it was just hell.

* * *

She came to him when he was desperate, drowning his sorrows in glasses of whiskey in a bar downtown in his attempt to forget. He did not know who she was, or where she came from. She sat on the stool beside him and said, “I can help you.” He looked up blearily from the half-empty bottle in front of him and met her red eyes.

“I can help you.” She repeated. “Come here tomorrow at the same time if you’re interested.” Then she turned around and left him.

The next day, he was half convinced that the previous night was a dream. But after two months without news, his desperation drove him to return to the bar. Sober, like he’d rarely been for the last few weeks.

He scanned the room, searching for her. He tried not to get his hopes high; he’d nearly lost all hope at that point. He found her sitting alone at one of the table in the corner, her back to the wall, an untouched cocktail in front of her. She was wearing a short black dress with her dark hair pinned to a bun. With her dress, pretty face and red lips, she should have been the center of attention, but no one seemed to notice her.

He ordered double-scotch, took a sip then brought it to her table. He did not intend to get drunk, but he needed liquid courage for the upcoming conversation. He sat opposite her. “Well?” He asked. “I’m here now."

“You won’t find what you look for here.” She told him, cryptic. Her red eyes—clearly mutant—looked back at him steadily. “Not in this city. Not in this country, not in any place in this world.”

He closed his eyes and tried to swallow his disappointment. If her next sentence would some kind of preaching, he would leave. Preferably before he got angry enough and hit her. But her next words caught him off guard.

“Because she’s in another world.”

He stared at her for a moment, wondering whether it was a prank. He stretched his power, trying to get a feel inside the woman’s head. He couldn’t see much, but there was an image of Erik, in the white shirt and gray trousers that was missing from the dresser, with Lorna in his arms—easily recognizable by her shock of green hair.

Remembering Lorna brought back the excruciating pain he’d felt since she went missing. His telepathy hadn’t been as stable since his daughter (and Erik) disappeared. His mind had recognized Lorna’s since before she was born. The bond had solidified to the point where she responded to him when he prodded at her telepathically; she would happily broadcast her emotions whenever she felt him near. He realized the truth of what she’d said; he’d tried to find Lorna (and Erik) telepathically many times, and each and every attempt had failed. 

He sipped his whiskey once more before replying, “Alright, you’ve piqued my interest. What can you do?”

“I can provide you with the means to get her.”

“What?”

“I can send you on a journey, to find what you look for. You will have to go alone.” Her eyes stared at him intently as if through them she was looking inside him. It made him a little uncomfortable, but not even that could deter him. He was ready to try anything. If needed, he will cross the ocean to find her baby. Ability to send people to another world was a mutation he’s never heard of, but he was willing to try anything at that point. 

The memories of that day played back in his mind. He remembered waking up alone in his apartment. Erik was nowhere on sight. Lorna was not at her crib. There was a cold stack of pancakes on the dining table in the kitchen. He searched the whole apartment, no sign of them anywhere. Erik’s wallet was still on the nightstand, his shoes lined up neatly beside the front door, which were locked and bolted from the inside. The windows were all closed and locked. It was March and it was raining outside. Erik’s raincoat and jackets were still hanging in the closet. Lorna’s things were all accounted for; nothing had changed since the night before when he went to sleep. Except that his baby was missing, and Erik with her.

He called out for Erik with his mind, no answer. He called Erik’s workplace; they said he had not showed up for the day. He went out and knocked at their neighbors’ door, asking if they saw Erik. None of them did. He went back to his apartment tried to seek them out using his telepathy, expanding his range as far as he can, jumping from mind to mind, looking for those who might have contact with them or have any indication where they might be. He might have broken his personal ethics more times that day than then he had ever been before in his lifetime. He didn’t remember how long he did that, he didn’t remember passing out on the couch; he only remembered waking up to the phone ringing, Erik’s boss calling in the afternoon—supposedly the end of his shift—to tell him that Erik still hadn’t showed up.

He remembered reporting their disappearance to the police. Hazy with headache, he’d told them his story, broke down in tears halfway through the tale. They asked him if he was on drugs, he told them he was an empath, and that being parted from his daughter hurt. They’d listened, filed a report and promised him to contact him if they have news. He heard in their mind, ‘hysterical omega’, ‘the husband might just need to take a break’, ‘nothing much we can do’ and ‘these mutants’ existence makes our job even harder’.

He remembered going home, numb, taking off his shoes and jacket, went to Lorna’s room and sat on the floor near her crib; crying for a long, long time.

He blinked away the incoming tears and gave her his answer. “Alright.”

She held out her right hand in an inviting gesture. “Now?” He did not expect that. “I don’t have anything prepared!”

She shook her head and then told him the words that he would remember for the rest of his life. _“You will lose everything you have now at the beginning of your journey, but you will gain what you need to complete it. You will travel long, and far, and hard, but you will find what you look for in the end. When you do, you will lose everything you’ve received at the start of your journey. You will lose even more of yourself to hold on to what you wanted. Your loved one is lost to you, and when you see him again, you will not, nor will ever, look at him the way you did and wished you would always do.”_

His clenched his fists. It hurt to think of Erik. With Lorna, it was the pain of separation, of longing; with Erik, it was tinged with betrayal. Erik, who’d promised to someday explain about their unique bond and the mark that appeared in his and Erik’s back; who’d left without explanation of where he was going, not even a note; who had taken his baby away to a place he cannot reach, not on his own. He swallowed the last of his whiskey. 

“Will you do it?” Her red eyes seemed to glow. Eerie. But he had to find his daughter. _For Lorna, anything._

“Yes.” He answered, firm. He took her hand. There was a very bright, blinding light and he had to close his eyes.

When he opened his eyes he was no longer at the bar with her. He was on another world.

* * *

The journey was exactly as she said, long, and far, and hard. She forgot to say painful. Or maybe she deliberately did not say it. There were times when he’d nearly give up. But there was this small voice inside telling him not to give up, that the next world might be the one he’s looking for.

For Lorna, _anything._

The moment he arrived in the huge hall he knew it was the world he was looking for. There was a slight buzz on the back of his head, a low buzz that quickly grew into low voices. His telepathy was coming back. The rip that was formed years ago was starting to heal.

* ** _She’s_** here.* 

He breathed in, then out. Finally, he arrived at this point.

*She’s **_here._** *

The very same bond that sparked a long time ago, the one that told him—even before test pack and doctor’s examination—that there was a tiny soul forming inside him, had started to stir, to stretch, and it was telling him that, yes, Lorna was around there, somewhere.

The voices were getting louder. He winced as it began to reach irritating level. He closed his eyes and tried to remember his childhood; the first time his father taught him how to shield his mind. Slow but sure, he rebuilt the shield around his mind, transforming the existing one, putting up walls after walls, strategically placed windows, traps and defenses. He won’t be able to use his telepathy actively for a while—not for attack, but what he had at the moment was enough. He could hear and block others people’s thoughts. Those without mind-shield, he would be able to read; those with weak shield, he would be able to see past. As for people with stronger shields, he may not be able to break them or slipped into their mind, but most people’s thought were often betrayed by their face or body movements, and he’d grown to be good enough at reading body language. He would still have his telekinesis. He knew that he would not lose it just yet, not until he found his baby girl. She was close, he knew. Otherwise, his telepathy would not return so quickly. 

When he was done, he pulled back a bit and watched the result: much stronger than how it used to be; more dangerous, too. After all, he did learn some things on his journey. 

When he opened his eyes, he saw the painting on the wall above the throne. Erik. Regal and majestic in what seemed to be a wine-coloured royal uniform, with a golden crown rested on his head. 

In his journey, Charles had met Erik a couple times. But they were not his Erik; the man who showed up in his life, swept him off his feet and bonded him, then took away his child and break his heart. No, none of them were Erik. They were different Erik belonged to different worlds and each and every one of them were capable of cruelty in their own unique ways.

But, if his baby was here, then that Erik on the wall must be his, _no, not his,_ he reminded himself, but _the Erik that betrayed him._

He raised his arm towards the painting. There was resistance in the air when he tried to use his telekinesis, as if the air itself rejected him using his power. He persisted and pushed. The painting was ripped off the wall. The iron frame shredded to pieces. 

There were voices somewhere behind him, and someone was screaming, yet he paid no attention. _Servants_ , he found out through their mind. Some of them ran to get the guards. He had little time left. He watched as the canvas slowly disintegrated into small, dust sized particles. Precision used to be a problem, what with the constant pain of his severed bond with his daughter. Cold hatred worked as well as serenity for his telekinesis, but raw power usually came easier than precision.

He turned away from the destroyed painting and started paying attention to the rest of the room. It was grand. The grey walls were decorated with shapes and swirls in both darker grey and gold paint. Tasteful, but the griffin-like creatures perched near the top of the pillars were hideous. The throne chair was red and gold, not excessively big nor ostentatious, and wouldn’t draw people’s attention away from the one who was supposed to sit on it. What Charles did find out was that the chair was mostly made of metal, which made it both a seat and weapon for the man meant to sit there. No windows, so there must be some kind of air ventilation, or holes; meaning possible entrance. Main entrance, two side entrances—right and left, one door at the back near the throne, half hidden behind the torn drapes (must have happened when he ripped the painting off the wall). 

He pushed the air to do his will (it tried to resist, still) finding other entrances. He rigged the door mechanism to kept it closed and piled ruined furniture (and the hideous stone griffins) in front of them; sealed the hidden entrances and rigged trapdoors. He noted that the palace seemed have lots of those. Granite floors and stone pillars would be his best weapon. Stones most often obeyed him better than air, water and metals. All that won't stop Erik, but it will stop many others.

He'd just finished bring down the chandeliers when the first round of guards entered through the main door. Charles used their own weapons to knock them out. He absently noted that some of them are mutants, with visible mutation. _So mutants are accepted here._

The second set of guards came and Charles recognized some of them: Darby, Allerdyce, Toynbee. Unfamiliar faces he strike immediately, the same way he did the first group. The previous three he’d let standing. _I need to know whether their powers are similar to those I’ve met before._ Toad, who was barefoot, jumped towards the ceiling and his hands and feet stick there. The air around Darby stirred, charged with static electricity. A fireball formed in Allerdyce’s palm. _Looked similar._ He let out a small smirk and taunted them. “Give me your best shot.”

Allerdyce sent him a huge ball of fire. Charles stopped it halfway by ripping off a huge chunk of granite floor and used it to block the fire. At the same time, Darby pointed some kind of spear towards him. Charles ripped the spear off his hand and hit him on the head with the blunt end. _One down._ Toynbee had crawled towards his direction, no doubt trying to incapacitate him with his poisonous tongue. He crumbled the part of ceiling the young man was clinging to. The guard fell down the floor and did not move afterwards. Knocked out and probably broke more than a few bones. Two down. Charles did not spare Toynbee any pity. He had regenerative capabilities. He would be alright, eventually.

Charles faced Allerdyce, who stood with his hand clenched, shoulders stiff in anger. “That’s your best effort?” He clucked his tongue. “Obviously you people need better teachers.”

Allerdyce eyes flashed, and the next thing he did was sending a stream of fire towards Charles. He blocked it with the chunk granite floor he used previously. Charles rolled his eyes when Allerdyce increase the fire’s extent while using the granite block to hide from Charles’ sight. ”One lesson your teachers forgot to tell you,” He told Allerdyce, his tone even. “Some telekinetics don’t need sight to attack.” He striked Allerdyce on the back of his head with a piece of chunk fell off the ceiling earlier. The young man dropped unconscious to the floor.

 _The powers are similar._ He noted, satisfied. _That means most of others will be similar, too._ Looking at Allerdyce, his mind piped up, _The personality seemed to be similar, too._

There were more people outside and they all had shields in place. The big fishes were coming. A mind brushed against his shield, trying to find a way in. He would’ve known that touch anywhere, and after meeting her time and time again he knew the easiest way to deal with her. 

The air behind him stirred and crackled. Charles summoned the throne chair and shoved it towards the disturbance. As a crack sounded, the throne hit its target. Azazel dropped to the floor with a thud. Charles turned his sight towards the door, where three—also familiar—people stood. 

The first one’s shield was quite strong; he couldn’t hear nor see past through it. But that face was too expressive. His concern (and shock) towards Allerdyce and Darby was bleeding through. And he did not have the eyeglasses Charles previously saw other world’s Scott wear. _My dear Scott. This will be easy._

The second one; according to his knowledge, her powers and his at the moment were very similar. Unfortunately (for her) she was still young, and inexperienced. By the minute gasp she couldn’t suppress and the widening of those green eyes, Charles concluded that she wouldn’t be able to keep her thoughts completely off her face. It would be an advantage for him in the upcoming fight. Jean Grey could be a challenge. A little.  
As for the last one, she was always wearing white, no matter which world he saw her in. She had cool, calculating gaze. Without slipping through her shields—which he was unable not do at the moment—he couldn’t find out exactly how powerful of a telepath she was.

So he went for her first.

* * *

Half his mind was busy concentrating with his attackers, the other jumping from mind to mind in the palace, looking for his baby girl. Images of blue eyes set in a lovely face framed with green hair were projected by some of these people’s mind—those without shield in place. She was at the palace; he was trying to find out exactly where. He would finish playing with Jean and Riptide once he had some idea where his daughter might be. He knew there were others outside, no doubt ordered to prevent him from leaving. He paid no attention towards them, not unless they entered the room.

He felt one of them entered, shields on place. Darwin, the one who ordered evacuation of the injured guards, probably came to help Scott. He ignored the young man.

The metals in the room started to resist. His control over them was slipping. Someone—or some people—with an affinity for metal were coming. He pulled away from random people’s minds. He’d assess the new foes then return to the previous task. Searching for his daughter.

He turned towards the entrance and found himself facing another familiar face, one he’d loved in a distant past, hated and despised in not so distant past.

“Erik.” He spat *his* name coldly.

* * *

tbc

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hate writing fighting scenes. They're difficult. Need more practice. Sorry for the grammar mistakes and typos. I'm not a very neat person, I often missed small mistakes when editing. I think I'd go crazy if I had to edit this thing again.
> 
> Erik's painting in the throne room was inspired by this https://40.media.tumblr.com/233f1148c5e58a10fc10b2b6784b55cf/tumblr_inline_nmcviw2aNw1t2kyrj_500.jpg


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